


The Meeting of the Virtuous Ones

by DroughtofApathy



Series: A Thousand Lifetimes [30]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anonymous Sex, BDSM, F/F, Filthy rich women getting together and fucking, Mild Humiliation, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgy, Porn With Plot, Sex Parties, it's just 20k of smut, that's it that's the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 01:17:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17839628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DroughtofApathy/pseuds/DroughtofApathy
Summary: She had no name beyond her title. No characteristics beyond her dedication for scrupulous and devoted work. Nothing remarkable about her at all. No, the woman was simply known as “the Maid” and that was exactly how she liked it. Her employers were all disgustingly wealthy women from across the globe. Once a year the six women met in one of their many homes. What transpired was a week of their deepest, most depraved, most lustful fantasies and desires acted out under the safe and nonjudgmental affection they’d gleaned over the years. Under false names that decidedly did not reflect the nature of their sexual encounters, the six women came together uninhibited and utterly raw. No fear of scorn. No terror of being publicly humiliated. Just sweet reckless abandon.





	The Meeting of the Virtuous Ones

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, why is it that my most read works are the ones that are full-on kinkfest? I mean, we all know why, but still.

She had no name beyond her title. No characteristics beyond her dedication for scrupulous and devoted work. Nothing remarkable about her at all. No, the woman was simply known as “the Maid” and that was exactly how she liked it.

Her employers, fabulously wealthy women, had all tried at one time or another to coax a name out of her. Any name. Any way of addressing her beyond “the Maid,” because it seemed to them far too dismissive and rude, but the Maid wouldn’t hear of it. Not when the job they required of her, but once a year, necessitated absolute anonymity. She did not truly know who they were, and they did not know who she was. The women did not even know who each other truly were.

As strange as it seemed, even after decades, the six women – all formative, disgustingly rich, not unknown to the public – had kept their identities shielded. When the Maid once inquired as to how they’d done it, likely running in similar national circles of influence and grandeur, the answers she received perplexed her just as much as the question.

Loathe to lose their one week of fun and freedom, each woman had simply trained herself not to notice. Should they ever come across each other’s real-world persona, they would simply…not notice. Not remember. Not recall their days of abandon. Photos in tabloids, names in headlines. None of that mattered. They were not those women when they donned their alter egos.

They called these yearly get-togethers _La Recontre des Vertueux._ The Meeting of the Virtuous Ones. T’was said with irony and amusement, for their sordid fun was anything but.

The Maid knew not how it all began. These yearly secretive encounters of theirs. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure they remembered either. And if they did, they certainly hadn’t deigned to share the truth.

In her early days of employment, she’d asked each one of them at least once. Why they’d done it. How it all happened. It began in a dark hole of an internet chatroom, said Mercy, briefly looking up from one of her many devices. Though both she and the Maid knew quite well the internet had been but a few monstrous computers connected by the ARPAnet when their fun first unfolded. But when the Maid had raised an eyebrow skeptically, Mercy had only winked and said no one knew how the real truth went, but that’s what she’d said.

With a salt-rimed vodka in one hand and twirling a pair of Italian-brand sunglasses in the other, Essence had playfully described a chance seating arrangement at Queen Elizabeth’s 60th birthday party, culminating in an impromptu orgy on the floor of the palace coat check. And while the Maid had laughed hardily along with Essence, she’d not believed it for a moment. To that Essence had simply replied no one knew how the real truth went, but that’s what she fondly remembered.

Pursing her ruby red lips, head tilted at the perfect angle, Temperance had crossed one long white leg over the other before answering. They’d all signed up for the same monthlong silent retreat in the Canary Islands, and, two weeks after being subjected to minimal food and no human communication, they’d all run off to frolic loudly in the ocean, and in their half-starved and delirious state, they’d envisioned creating their own retreat without silence or starvation or meditative bullshit. And so _La Recontre des Vertueux_ was born. Of course, Temperance made sure to point out with a throaty chuckle, no one knew how the real truth went, but that’s what she liked to imagine.

Leveling the Maid with a mock-glare, Prudence had snottily proclaimed it none of her business with a toss of her glossy black hair. Then, after winking and graciously motioning for the Maid to sit, Prudence regaled her with the humble tale of six wide-eyed young women, alone in a foreign land, drawn to each other’s discomfort, and eager to relate to _anyone_ at all in their fragile, vulnerable states. Friendship turned to housing together to save what little money they’d had in those early days, and those close quarters led to more. But just as the Maid expected, Prudence finished with the parting remark that no one knew how the real truth went, but that’s what could have been.

The Maid’s favorite tale by far had to be Clarity’s fantastical and dramatic retelling of a tragic plane crash carrying the five other women onto her little secluded island. The night of the storm, Clarity had heroically carried each and every one of them into her home, nursed them back to health, and in their grief and eternal gratitude, they’d – after recovering of course – expressed their feelings in the first-ever meeting of _La Recontre des Vertueux_. Given a few key characteristics of Clarity, it went without saying – though she’d spoken the words anyway – that no one knew how the real truth went, but that’s the sort inception she sometimes daydreamed about.

The closest the Maid had ever gotten to the so-called truth had been with the least brazen and most skittish member. The aptly-named Serenity had stammered and fumbled, and very nearly sent the others in a small panic before she regained her composure with a laugh and a wink, and launched into a wholesome story of how they’d all attended the same elementary school. Long before they’d all come into their money, they’d all made a vow, a pinky promise, in fact, that should they ever go their separate ways, they’d meet once a year to renew their promise. And as the Maid knew, no one knew – least of all her – how the real truth went, but that’s what Serenity believed.

The Maid did not want the truth. Just as she knew her employers did not want to tell it. It would have irreparably ruined the mystic they’d carefully cultivated over the years. There was no truth to their encounter. And perhaps because of that, all the more real. All the more genuine when under the cover of anonymity.

Once a year the six women met in one of their many homes. What transpired was a week of their deepest, most depraved, most lustful fantasies and desires acted out under the safe and nonjudgmental affection they’d gleaned over the years. Under false names that decidedly did not reflect the nature of their sexual encounters, the six women came together uninhibited and utterly raw. No fear of scorn. No terror of being publicly humiliated. Just sweet reckless abandon.

Though they’d all apologized profusely to the Maid in those first few years, because of the delicacy of the situation, not to mention the potential legal scandal of putting employees through such a sexual situation, it would have been unwise to hire more than one person. The Maid had no complaints. She recognized the need for secrecy and security. And besides, they all paid her handsomely for just seven days of work. The Maid knew, had she been a woman who liked languishing around with nothing to do fifty-one weeks out of the year, she could afford it.

In the beginning, the Maid had assumed, given the promised salary, the strangeness of the job, and the wealth of the employers, it would be a hellish seven days – technically ten including preparation and cleanup – spent waiting hand and foot on disgustingly rich bitches. She’d been pleasantly surprised how simple the work turned out to be. Aside from the frantic preparation, and questionable cleanup, the six women were consistently reasonable and gracious in their requests. They recognized the difficulties that came with a single person responsible for six others, and would not make it harder.

Over time she’d come to like and respect her employers. They were such a strange group of women, though. Whatever the truth of their first meeting was, it must have been as outlandish and fantastic as Clarity’s story about a plane crash. At first glance, the women of _La Recontre des Vertueux_ had nothing in common. No shared links, no feasible way they could have all met organically. With every continent represented among them – save for Antarctica – the six women came from every corner, spoke eight languages between them, and the Maid didn’t even want to begin to tally their combined net worth.

And yet, despite _La Recontre des Vertueux_ hinging on secrecy, the Maid knew each of them on a surprisingly intimate level. Sometimes it struck her she knew them better than their real-world friends and family. Not only because she knew how they looked unclothed and writhing in ecstasy, but because safe under anonymity, they could be all the more real.

Serenity, a frail and waifish sort of woman, seemed like the exact opposite sort of woman to enjoy being tied up and made to uncontrollably climax under the careful hand of another woman. Or, conversely, be the one tying another up and spanking them senseless. Yet, the Maid knew Serenity craved the sort of cathartic release the week brought. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed heiress from Canada did, however, live up to her chosen moniker in ways the others didn’t. Sweet, unassuming, Serenity took the Polite Canadian stereotype and turned it into an art form.

Her very opposite, Temperance, named for abstinence and avoidance of a lovely little thing called alcohol, could drink any one of them under the table. Easily the tallest member of _La Recontre des Vertueux,_ not to mention strongest with her defined muscles and powerful limbs, Temperance knew how to command a room. Paper-white with dark red curls the Maid would have sworn was the product of a fantastic dye job had she not seen the evidence to the contrary, there was no denying the British-born Temperance cut a striking image. She insisted on wearing her ruby-red lipstick even knowing it would end up messily smeared across her face and the others’ bodies, wore precariously tall heels even almost six feet tall without, and had both cheek bones and a jawline someone could cut themselves on.

With darker skin, and brown kinky curls, Essence could flirt and charm better than anyone Her honey-coated laughter and laisse-faire attitude, which would have been repulsive on other rich bastards, only made her more appealing. The years had softened her vaguely pretentious and blasé attitude, bringing out a more wholesome and caring side, no matter how she denied it. Unlike Serenity or Temperance who’d been born into money, Essence had grown up in a poor village in Senegal, and though the Maid didn’t know how, she’d somehow become rich beyond measure, and moved to France about two decades prior.

The Maid couldn’t recall an instance Mercy wasn’t within a few feet of one of her devices. Likely some technology tycoon, Mercy had probably come into her fortune through her own innovation. A down-to-earth sort of woman, Mercy had short manageable hair and a friendly casual demeanor. A woman from the Land Down Under, she feared far less than anyone the Maid had ever met before. It was always an adventure when Mercy hosted the yearly meeting and the Maid enjoyed playing with the new technological upgrades – some of which wouldn’t be released to the public for many months yet.

For all her proper breeding and refined dignity, Prudence had a fantastic temper about her that nearly rivaled that of Temperance. She’d taken the longest of the six to become fully comfortable baring herself to the others, physically or emotionally. Though she’d never stated why, the Maid thought she knew. Prudence had spent her life building up walls; building up barriers to protect herself from the world. A victim, the Maid saw, of western beauty and western superiority, Prudence had shut her Latina self inside until her skin stayed pale and her dark curls softened. It must have been for that reason she’d initially been so wary around Essence and Clarity. Their acceptance and pride in their color; their constant reminder of what she herself had been unable to do. Now, Prudence embraced her identity. She’d come outside, allowed her true tones to show. The Maid couldn’t help but feel proud.

Which brought her to Clarity. The smallest and most cryptic, Clarity lived far below her considerable means. Though positively swimming in wealth, the tiny woman lived part of the time in a modest apartment in – of all places – Manhattan, though she was born somewhere in Southeast Asia, and Manhattan by definition was for the rich. She had no staff seeing to her needs as the others did, and no sense of what to do with help even if she had it. Given what little the Maid knew of Clarity, she gathered the woman was some sort of writer, and a successful one at that, though she’d never even considered looking for her books. She also thought Clarity was a lonely sort, though she had the good sense to keep that opinion to herself. Still, Clarity could make even the strongest of them whimper and tremble at her feet with just one look.

This year, the annual _La Recontre des Vertueux_ fell to Clarity to host. Not that any of them, least of all Clarity, felt it a burden. On the contrary, the Maid thought Clarity enjoyed planning this event most of all.

Travel expenses paid, the Maid boarded a plane to the French Polynesia, and then a boat to a small and secluded island off the coast of the one of the more populated islands. She found she liked the beauty of this location best out of the six, and liked preparing with Clarity most, even if it meant some of the most backbreaking work in almost stifling humidity.

It wasn’t that Clarity left most of the work to the Maid willingly. It was just that, at ninety pounds soaking wet, with the beginnings of carpal tunnel, Clarity just couldn’t lift as much as some of the other women. And they all insisted on setting up with no outside help.

The Maid had once assumed sex parties took place in leather dungeons, dimly lit with chains and whips along the walls. But these women were used to elegant comfort, not tacky leather – no matter how much Temperance seemed to love those tight pants of hers – and they instead opted for divine mattresses, safely covered in plastic underneath heavy padding and expensive silken sheets and comforters, spread out across a large and airy room with soft lighting and luxury cushions.

With its breathtaking view of the enticing aqua waters, floor to ceiling wide sliding doors, traditional design blending with modern updates, the villa never failed to enchant the Maid. The palm-covered roof, with its fascinating shape, seemed a bit like a fire hazard to Clarity, but she couldn’t deny the appeal. Yes, this lovely villa on what was essentially her own little island far overshadowed whatever it was Disney had stolen.

The two women talked amicably as they readied the house. By the time the Maid had arrived, just as she expected, Clarity had already scrubbed the place clean of the dust and cobwebs that had accumulated in the months she’d been away.

It should have been strange, to talk so casually with a woman she knew almost nothing about, but the Maid never tired of listening to Clarity discuss a Broadway production she’d enjoyed – and likely secretly funded – and she in turn could have spoken for hours about her cats. The only personal detail she’d ever let slip in front of her employers.

“I am sorry I could not have been more help,” Clarity said after the two women had struggled to push the final mattress in place. She sat heavily down on said mattress, wincing as she rubbed her knee.

“Best you save your strength for the next coming week,” the Maid said, smirking. Clarity chuckled, accepting a hand up. They still had to make the bare mattresses pretty after all. And the others were due tomorrow just after midday. The Maid glanced over at the curtains separating a corner of the room from the rest, giving the illusion of privacy should any of the women need it. Clarity, with Mercy’s helpful advice, had rigged the contraption herself years back.

Clarity always, without fail, spent the days leading up to _La Recontre des Vertueux_ in a state of anxiety that didn’t cease until the fun began. Why someone who adored planning and organization fretted so never failed to confuse the Maid to no end, but who was she to judge?

“Go and rest before they arrive,” the Maid ordered, pushing Clarity towards her room. “I will ensure everything goes according to your plan.” After all, her employer had provided her with a comprehensive guide complete with technicolor diagrams made in Microsoft Word. The Maid wondered if Mercy would be more appalled or impressed. Likely both.

“Clarity,” the Maid muttered to herself with an exasperated shake of the head. “The only woman who would lay out the order she wishes her pillow colors to be.” With a long-suffering sigh, she went about making sure everything was just so, knowing Clarity would never agree to rest for more than twenty minutes at most. And with a final shake of her head, she reached for the first pile of sheets.

Early the next morning, their first guest arrived. Each year, without fail, Temperance arrived at the villa first. The Maid noticed she only ever arrived this early to Clarity’s domain. With the others she arrived precisely on time, but there was something about the smallest member of _La Recontre des Vertueux_ that compelled the tall woman to prolong their time together for as long as she could.

This favoritism was not a one-way street either. As Clarity delightedly greeted Temperance, hefting one of her suitcases towards the largest and most beautiful bedroom, the Maid followed with the rest of the bags. The luxurious bedroom had the best view, and the softest sheets. Ordinarily Clarity herself resided in it, but each year she and the Maid removed her belongings in favor of Temperance’s comfort. Instead, Clarity moved into the smallest of the remaining six rooms, smaller than even the Maid’s living quarters, but closest to Temperance.

The Maid thought it sweet. And, when their little clandestine meetings moved to the British bombshell’s homeland, Temperance always reserved the second most lovely room for Clarity, personally making up the bed and stocking the bathroom with the small woman’s preferred toiletries.

“Why does each year feel longer and longer?” Temperance lamented, throwing herself gracefully onto the glorious mattress. “Oh, I’ve missed this more than I could have imagined.” She reached out for Clarity, pulling her easily onto the bed.

“I’ve missed you,” Clarity murmured quietly, tucking her legs up beneath her. “It’s difficult to believe we’ve not been together here for eight years.” The two women looked tenderly at each other. The Maid moved around them, beginning to unpack Temperance’s belongings. The benefit of arriving early meant the Maid had time enough to spare for such an action.

Neither of the women paid her any mind, too lost in each other, as she placed clothing in drawers, and plugged chords into outlets. None of them thought the Maid’s presence in this clearly intimate moment constituted an intrusion. Not when she’d seen them _in flagrante delecto_. Even so, once the Maid finished, she quietly slipped out, leaving Temperance and Clarity to their final moments of solitude.

The last of them, Essence, who always arrived at the last possible moment, came sweeping through the door in all her grandiose finery. She laughed, sweeping the others into embraces, and didn’t hesitate to color their cheeks with her chocolate brown lipstick.

“Look what the tides dredged up,” Temperance said haughtily, pressing light kisses to Essence’s own cheeks. “My dear, we were beginning to fear you’d crashed into the ocean. And as capable as our athletic Clarity once was, I fear you’d never survive in her current state.” They all laughed, as comfortable as can be with each other even after fifty-one weeks apart.

The Maid accepted a kiss of her own and handed Essence a cocktail glass. Leaving Essence to dazzle the others, she easily hauled the designer suitcases into the Essence’s designated room. Each room had touches of the occupant’s preferred colors, even if they all adhered to the traditional Polynesian style.

When she returned, the six women had made themselves comfortable at the dining table. Ever creatures of habit, they’d each sat down in the same seat as their first time in the French Polynesian villa.

“Ladies,” Prudence drawled. “A toast! To another week of unimaginable pleasure. May we all scream so loud we wake the long-dormant gods of this island, as we make love into the night. May we leave too exhausted to stand, and too tender to sit. May we toast to another seven days in paradise.”

“May we rue the day Prudence steals my thunder and makes the toast,” Essence said, her voice a playful, teasing tone in that sultry pitch that never failed to make the others nearly groan in delight. Prudence shot her a mock-glare, but graciously ceded the floor, sinking down into her seat.

Essence stood, one hand cocked on her hip. “A toast to fine wines and even finer women. May we drink our fill and fuck to our heart’s content. May our own Temperance grace us with her supple round arse, and itty-bitty titties.”

“Least I’m not a bloody cow,” Temperance shot back, with a cackle. “Get on with it, wench.” She salaciously palmed her self-proclaimed small breasts, causing Essence to pucker her lips at her before laughing.

“A toast to our good health and our unrelenting stamina,” Essence continued, tossing her hair dramatically. “As you all grow older may you age gracefully, you ancient hags.” Immediately, loud jeering filled the air. Essence sat with a delighted laugh, draping an arm over the back of her chair. The Maid chuckled herself, leaning against a doorframe as she watched.

“To Essence,” Mercy mocked, raising her glass. “The epitome of eternal youth and beauty. May those great big breasts of yours defy gravity even as we all give in to nature’s cruel path. Oh, except Temperance of course. Nothing to fear when there’s nothing to sag, mate.”

“Oh, sure,” Temperance griped, enduring the good-natured ribbing with grace. “All of you just gang up on me, why don’t you? Take a look at your own chest sometime, Mercy. And not a word of support from the rest of you small-breasted ladies. Well, fine. A toast! A toast to you miserable old biddies. May you all, with a little bit of luck, become as refined and sophisticated as I.”

“Darling, if I wanted to be a common street walker, I’d learn from the best,” Clarity heckled, smirking at Temperance’s outraged screech. “Essence. Teach me your ways.”

“You know as well as I do, my little Clarity,” Essence replied, not missing a beat. “I cannot, nor will I ever be, considered a common hooker. I…am clearly an elite purchase you couldn’t even dream of affording.”

“Don’t have to dream when I get it for free every year,” Clarity said, inclining her head. She toasted each of them, eliciting peals of laughter from the ones not being insulted, and indignant gasps from who was. “Finally, to being together once more. May we all survive _La Recontre des Vertueux_ another year. May we make each other proud.”

“A toast to Clarity, the ever-gracious host,” Serenity said, sincere in her words, sobering the others in her wake. They all raised their glasses. “To a week of freedom from our endless responsibilities. To spending time with those we care about. To love and lust and everything in between. To wonderful foods, and crystal-clear waters. To our steadfast Maid. The best of us. The woman who makes this week possible.”

They all turned to face the Maid, toasting her. “To you,” they said, echoing each other. She inclined her head graciously, waving them away.

“To Serenity,” Clarity said compassionately. “To the kindest of us all. To the woman who keeps us from tearing each other to shreds. To her infinite patience and wisdom. May we all learn a little bit about Canadian values.”

Serenity blushed, looking down. But she had a smile on her face as she drank from her glass. Then she said, “Well, let’s stop blathering on and feast!” And so they did.

They didn’t immediately adjourn to the mattresses and selection of sex toys the Maid had set out before. That first night they never did. After all, not even they, _La Recontre des Vertueux,_ could spend seven straight days indulging in their basest instincts.

Instead the six of them gathered in the sitting room, laughing and drinking as they caught up on a year’s worth of mischief and mayhem. How much of it lay grounded in reality, no one could say. And quite frankly it didn’t matter.

Sometime after midnight, Clarity told the Maid she didn’t have to stick around to hear their drunken shenanigans.

“We’re adult women capable of refilling our own glasses, dear,” Temperance said, her words beginning to slur. And if Temperance had begun to feel the effects of the alcohol, the others had already past the point of no return long ago.

With a pointed glance at the full water pitcher, the Maid stole away to bed. She knew that lot wouldn’t wake before noon tomorrow. Jet lag and alcohol. What an amusing combination.

And just as she’d suspected, by ten in the morning, not a single door had opened. The Maid chuckled to herself. Only the illusion of privacy existed during _La Recontre des Vertueux_ and the Maid had no qualms about entering each room unannounced. She’d seen it all over the years, and could no longer be shocked.

The Maid went from room to room, gently rousing the disgruntled occupant and coaxing them into drinking a glass of cold water and taking two Advil for their self-inflicted agony. Some, like Serenity, thanked her politely before burrowing back under the soft sheets. Some, like Prudence, growled and flung a pillow in her general direction. She didn’t take it personally, trying not to laugh too heartedly at their misery.

By noon, they’d all staggered into the dining room to a table of wondrously greasy foods that gave the illusion of curing their pounding heads. The Maid didn’t take much care in not clanking the dishes. They’d all made their beds, and now they had to lie in them.

“We do this every year,” Prudence complained. “Really. One of us must have enough sense to lock up the liquor cabinet after a point.”

“Agreed,” Mercy said, cradling her head in her hands. Which didn’t stop her from shoving food into her mouth. “Personally, I blame Serenity entirely.”

“Me?” Serenity cried indignantly. “As if I could come between Temperance and her vodka.” She massaged her temples, beginning to come back to herself.

Clarity, who had diligently drunk plenty of water and a dose of ibuprofen before bed, suffered far less than the others, and took great glee in gloating. She threw the curtains open, letting in all that torturous natural light. Not even the beautiful blue waters and lush greenery could make up for such a brutal betrayal.

 “Oh, you all have no one to blame but yourselves,” she said haughtily as she leisurely perched herself on the arm of Temperance’s chair. “Should have taken my advice.”

Essence turned to her host, no doubt about to make some scathing retort when she paled. Lurching up from the table, nearly knocking her glass over in the process, the indulgent woman bolted to the bathroom.

The Maid sighed, laughing. Then she swiftly followed. Well, someone had to hold her hair back as she purged her stomach of the remaining alcohol.

It didn’t take long for the lot of them to recover. By late afternoon the sunshine and plenty of fluids had done them good. The first night always meant the most excessive drinking. After that they’d all learned their lesson and limited themselves. Besides, why drink when the true fun was so much better without. Intoxicated fumbling never did measure up to skilled sobriety.

Prudence and Mercy sat in front of a chessboard on the terrace just outside, both deep in concentration. After all these years they were 41-39, respectively, and neither woman liked to lose. It never failed to amaze and frustrate Mercy that she couldn’t immediately crush Prudence. Her entire mindset revolved around strategizing and calculating probability. This should have been a breeze, and yet.

Essence lay on a cushioned lounge chair. She sipped a tall glass of lemonade, wearing only a tiny string bikini and a pair of Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses. Later on in the week she’d likely be wearing nothing at all, but their first night of passion had a ceremonial undressing and not even she would break it.

To her right, clothed and hiding under an umbrella, Serenity had her nose buried in a book of French poetry, quietly reading aloud. For two women so utterly opposites in every way, they got along remarkably well. Probably, the Maid thought, something to do with their shared language and mutual respect of their differences.

Unsurprisingly, Temperance and Clarity sat in the same oversized chair despite their being several perfectly good unoccupied ones in the immediate area. They’d already switched sides when the sun shifted to accommodate Temperance’s pale complexion and Clarity’s darker one. Though they both remained engrossed in their separate activities – Clarity on her word document written in a language none of them understood, and Temperance on her knitting project, of all things – they leaned against each other, legs entangled.

Eventually the wonderful smells wafting in from the kitchen, and Mercy’s triumphant victory, drew them back inside for an early dinner.

Essence, wrapping a transparent sarong around herself in an effort to placate Serenity’s sensibilities, raised a glass of sparkling water. “To an early dinner, ladies. After, it’s straight to the bedroom with you all to rest up for the fun later tonight. And you, my lovely Prudence, have I got plans for you. Let’s all make sure we slip into something…more enticing.” Prudence rolled her eyes, but raised her cup in response.

Three hours later, after the sun gave way to the beautiful night sky, the six women emerged from their rooms. And gone were their designer glasses and casual loungewear. Corseted and standing in deadly high heels, Temperance tossed her loose hair over her shoulder, running a hand down her leather-clad leg. Mercy, free of her cellphone and precious metals, leaned against the door frame, a tie slung over her shoulder and several buttons undone on her silk blouse.

Practically glowing, Essence sauntered into the room in her emerald negligee, floor length sheer silk robe trailing behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, smirking as she felt several pairs of eyes follow. Prudence flashed her pearly white teeth, entirely at ease in a violet evening gown and actual pearls. She’d clipped her hair to one side with an ornate pin encrusted with diamonds.

A stark contract, as she’d always been to the others, Serenity blushed prettily in a soft white sundress, her feet comfortably tucked into ballet shoes. The expensive lingerie underneath was the only thing to betray her wealth.

Already waiting in the room, their host, Clarity, smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from her black pants, and straightened her vest to reveal a hint of the lacy bra beneath. Her heels somehow were even taller than Temperance’s, though she still only came to the redhead’s pale and bare shoulder. Most exciting of all, she’d let her long hair down and it brushed the backs of her knees.

“You all look beautiful,” Clarity said. She reached out, drawing Mercy closer and kissing her possessively. One by one, they embraced each other, sharing kisses and fleeting touches.

The Maid watched from the shadows, feeling privileged to be allowed to observe this deeply erotic moment. Their strange amalgam of dress, hardly giving away the nature of the night, nevertheless struck the Maid as utterly indicative of the type of woman each was.

“Shall we get started?” Temperance asked in her contralto voice. The others nodded, turning their full attention to the smallest of them. As per tradition, the host of their week of fun received priority treatment.

“Oh, yes that’s lovely,” Clarity said with a slight groan as Serenity ran her fingers over her scalp repeatedly, massaging the sensitive skin.

“Shh, relax, honey,” Essence breathed into her ear. “Oh, you’re so tense. Really, you mustn’t let these little parties stress you out so much. Mercy, be a dear and help me massage these knots out of our poor Clarity’s shoulders.”

Clarity exhaled slowly. She stood pliant as the tension slowly melted from her body, and didn’t resist as she felt someone slowly undid the buttons of her vest, baring her abdomen to the mercy of the others.

“Lift your foot for me,” Temperance said, tapping her shoes. Clarity did as she was told, holding onto Temperance’s strong shoulders for balance.

They took their time undressing their host, just enjoying the privilege of being able to freely touch Clarity’s slowly relaxing body.

“Let’s get you more comfortable,” Prudence murmured, when at last they’d stripped the final bit of lace away.  “Temperance, if you please.” The others stepped back, allowing the strongest of them to easily sweep Clarity off her feet and carry her to – predictably – the bed covered in the red satin sheets and pillows.

“Careful with my hair,” Clarity warned, gathering the long strands into her hand as she rolled onto her stomach. She sighed contentedly, sinking down into the soft mattress as five pairs of hands trailed across her body, massaging every ligament and tendon to complete ease.

They made sure to remain gentle as they drew Clarity further into a blissful trance. Though Serenity was known as their most delicate member, she could nevertheless withstand stronger ministrations than the tiny and secretly fragile Clarity. Not that any of them would ever voice such a thought aloud.

“How are you feeling, dear?” Temperance asked after nearly an hour of working out the tight knots in Clarity’s little body.

“Much better,” Clarity murmured, rolling onto her back without shame. She stretched, reaching up to stroke Temperance and Essence’s faces. “Oh, I can’t tell you how much I needed that. Now, are you going to make me all tense and strained for another reason or are you just going to sit around me like some virgin sacrifice?”

“Oh, Clarity. Clarity, Clarity, Clarity,” Essence laughed. “No one could possibly mistake you as a virgin, honey. Now, it’s your moment. Where do you want my wicked tongue to be? Here, perhaps?” She slowly dragged the point of her tongue over a hardened nipple, causing Clarity to hum in approval.

“I think I’d like you and…oh, let’s see…Mercy at my lovely little breasts,” Clarity said, smirking. “Prudence, since you’ve got such a wonderful set of lips, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have your beautiful head between my legs. As for you, my sweet Serenity. Up here. Lift your dress?”

Immediately, the four women scrambled into their places. Serenity knelt near Clarity’s shoulder, demurely raising her dress and spreading her legs for the smaller woman to tease at the damp crotch of her panties.

“And what about me, dear?” Temperance asked, settling near Clarity’s head. In response, the nude woman gripped the bodice of her corset and pulled her down for a searing kiss.

The Maid watched from the shadows. It never failed to intrigue her about just how Clarity’s body responded to such stimuli. Normally, the small woman could retain the best composure during _La Recontre des Vertueux._ Less sensitive than the others, she took the most effort to get off, and her orgasms simply weren’t as mind-blowing.

But over time, the other women realized Clarity seemed far less able to remain in control when they all came together to make her cum. The constant barrage of delightful stimulation made the normally stoic woman writhe in pleasure. Her breathing came in quiet little gasps, punctuated by the high-pitched whimpers of Serenity as Clarity kept teasing beneath her dress.

“How’s she doing, Pru?” Essence asked, releasing a nipple with an audible pop. Prudence, with some difficulty, pried herself from the vice-like grip of Clarity’s surprisingly strong thighs. A strength that only came out when Clarity was very close indeed. The heavily aroused woman rolled her hips in protest, groaning. To placate her, Prudence slipped a finger over her clit.

“Don’t call me “Pru,” Essence,” she warned, sending her a smirk from between Clarity’s shaking thighs. “And she’s almost ready. Just another minute, I think.”

“It’ll be less if you stopped talking and put your mouth back where it was.” Clarity said testily, pulling Prudence back down to her pussy by her pearls. She moaned lowly in satisfaction, as she arched her back up into their touches.

But even under the skillful ministrations of five well-acquainted lovers, Clarity didn’t vocalize her pleasure any more than a few barely audible groans. The only reason the Maid knew she had even made them was because she knew Clarity’s pattern well.

Gradually, Clarity grew just loud enough to be distinctly heard above the rustling of the satin sheets, the enthusiasm with which Essence and Prudence sucked, and Serenity who’d pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle herself.

“Everyone stop what you’re doing, and back away,” Temperance suddenly ordered, and her voice carried such an authoritative tone no one thought twice about obeying. Clarity struggled into a semi-seated position, lip curling in annoyance. Temperance simply gave her a smug smile and said, “oh, don’t give me that look, dear. I know how much less satisfying all your subsequent orgasms are to the first, and I wouldn’t want us to ruin you too early in the evening.”

“Then I must be sure to thank you for your foresight,” Clarity said, voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. “But for now, I suppose this means we can begin the real fun. And I think I’ll start with Prudence to thank her for such marvelous work. Let’s get that lovely couture off of you, my darling.”

She crawled on all fours towards the Latina, carefully removing the expensive fabric only to toss it aside without a glance. The Maid briskly swept the dress off the floor before Prudence could raise a fuss and went off to properly put it away for another time.

By the time she returned, Essence had pounced on Serenity, dragging her nails across the other woman’s pale shoulders, leaving marks. She’d pushed down the straps of her pure little sundress, revealing the tops of otherwise bare breasts.

Temperance had gripped the ends of Mercy’s tie, dragging the woman close, and they remained in a heated lip lock, both vying for the dominant role. Mercy’s hands fumbled with the ties on Temperance’s corset, nearly finished freeing her from the tight confines.

Prudence was on all fours, nearly naked save for the pearls dangling from her neck and occasionally swinging to hit her bouncing breasts as Clarity thrust into her dripping pussy from behind. She had no such reservations about noise, and gladly cursed and moaned the closer she came to her climax.

“Oh, fuck, I’m close,” she swore, reaching up to roughly palm one of her own breasts. “Clarity! _Dios mío! Joder mi coño, por favor! Haz que me corra!_ ” She cried out as a pair of soft lips suddenly closed over her sensitive nipple, and instantly clutched the head to her breast.

Serenity, her dress bunched down near her waist, eagerly licked and sucked, unaware that her own pussy, as she lay upside down beneath the trembling Latina, was utterly vulnerable and available for anyone to take advantage of.

She squealed as she felt her panties forcibly torn away, the lace ripping audible even over Prudence’s frantic moans. When Essence, though Serenity didn’t know it was her exactly, entered her without preamble, she instinctively bit down on Prudence’s sensitive nipple. The Latina practically howled as Serenity inadvertently drew her over the edge.

Loudly swearing in a mix of English and Spanish, Prudence’s body shook as she came, her pussy walls clamping down on Clarity’s four fingers. She didn’t even notice as Serenity dropped down to the mattress, away from her breasts as she focused on her own pleasure.

“That’s it, Prudence,” Clarity murmured, trying to ease the shaking and panting woman away from Serenity before she could collapse completely. “Mercy, Temperance. When you’ve both finished flexing on each other, I could use a hand.” Prudence weakly pushed herself upright, swaying dangerously.

Mercy, who lay pinned underneath Temperance’s superior strength, glanced over. She’d been divested of her shirt and tie, and her slacks lay tangled around her ankles. Temperance hadn’t even lost her corset.

With a wink at the defeated woman, Temperance gracefully stood, sauntering over and easily helping Prudence a safe distance away where she heavily sagged against the mountain of pillows. But in Temperance’s distraction, Clarity swiftly moved to straddle Mercy before the victor returned to claim her prize.

“You just going to let her do all the hard work?” Mercy teased, gripping Clarity’s slim hips.

“Oh, of course,” Clarity answered smugly. She pinned Mercy’s arms above her head, confident her own authority would keep them there rather than her admittedly pitiful strength. “Why break an unnecessary sweat when Temperance was so kind to leave you here for me?” She left Mercy’s slacks around her ankles, effectively immobilizing them in a sense, and easily pushed the sensible white cotton underwear down to join them.

“That’s my good girl,” Essence cooed from between Serenity’s legs. Serenity whimpered at that, clutching the soft sheets. “Ooh. So close already? My poor baby. You don’t get fucked enough at home, do you?” Serenity frantically shook her head, thrusting her hips up lewdly without a hint of self-consciousness.

“S’il vous plait, madame! Please, Essence, please!” Serenity said, begging as though her life depended on it. “Please let me cum.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Essence said casually, slowing down her previously rapid pace. Serenity whimpered, sweat beginning to plaster strands of thin blonde hair to her face. “What do you think, ladies?” She glanced over at Temperance and Prudence. Having lost one helpless little toy, Temperance had latched onto a quickly recovering Prudence, and with the help of one of the fun little dildoes, she’d quickly mollified herself.

Prudence, propped up against the pillows, held her knees open as Temperance roughly penetrated her with a purple dildo. At Essence’s query, she reluctantly forced herself to focus, groaning in delight at the desperation on Serenity’s face.

“I’ll cut you a deal,” Temperance said in response. “If you can cum at the exact time as our gorgeous Latina here, you’ll both be rewarded. If you can’t, Serenity, we’ll have to turn you over for punishment.”

Serenity whimpered. She knew as well as any of the others that Prudence, after the first orgasm, took a while to work back up. Especially without clitoral contact. And it didn’t appear Temperance had given her any assistance in that department. But knowing they had little choice, both women nodded.

A mere few feet away, Mercy lay on the edge of a shattering orgasm only for Clarity to pull away at the most frustrating moment possible.

“Fucking tease,” Mercy complained, thrusting her hips up. Clarity didn’t verbally respond, but she did, nod in Essence’s direction. Mercy craned her neck, slowly smirking as she saw the delectable ass in the air, practically begging for some attention. “Get the strapon,” she whispered. And the two women chuckled conspiratorially.

Kicking aside the last of her clothing, Mercy easily fitted herself into the harness. Most well-versed in the art of the strapon, she knelt proudly, the bright blue silicone jutting out comically.

“Let’s spice up the game a little,” Clarity said, dragging Essence’s robe and negligee up and over her hips. She wore nothing underneath, as they’d all expected, and eagerly arched her ass towards them even more as she continued licking at Serenity’s desperate pussy.

“I’m afraid this is going to make life just a little more difficult, Serenity,” Clarity said, brushing the damp tendrils of hair out of her face. Essence groaned in satisfaction as Mercy sank her fake cock into her dripping pussy, even more pleased as Serenity nearly sobbed in an effort to hold back her own pleasure.

Her voice just barely above a whisper, Clarity detailed exactly why. “Every thrust of Mercy’s cock into our dear friend will propel her even deeper into you, my good girl. Every time she moans – and we both know Essence has never been quiet – you’ll feel the reverberations right on your sensitive little clit.” Serenity whimpered as Essence did exactly that. “And with that exquisite pleasure Essence feels between her legs, how can she possibly focus on making the pace nice and fair for you?”

“Oh, please!” Serenity begged, weakly banging her fist against the mattress. “Please! Prudence? Prudence, please, I need to cum! _Please_!”

“I’m trying,” Prudence said in response, her voice ragged. “I- I just can’t- ugh! Oh, fuck. Temperance, please let me touch my clit! Please, I can’t- not if you don’t…” She twisted feebly, bucking her hips to no avail.

“Oh, I think not,” Temperance said evilly. “This is much more satisfying…for me. Oh, and Essence. Don’t hold back. I want you to cum hard and fast just so these two know exactly what they’re missing.”

“That goes for you too, Mercy,” Clarity said, manually pinching the other woman’s breasts and nipples. “I know how hot it gets you to sink your cock into a warm, wet cunt.” Everyone groaned at that. Even the sensible and easily offended Serenity shuddered at the very word.

“Fucking harder, you Aussie bitch,” Essence said, her words making Serenity twitch as she felt them against her clit. “Oh, fuck yeah!”

They’d all donned the harness at one point or another, but only Mercy truly knew how to wield one without tiring too quickly. Knees planted firmly on either side of Essence’s calves, she thrust her hips without even remotely slowing down.

To better communicate, Essence quickly replaced her mouth with her eager fingers. She didn’t need to search long to find Serenity’s sensitive g-spot, and the blonde’s keening cry certainly gave it away.

“Almost there, Mercy?” Essence asked, meeting each thrust with one of her own. Mercy made a noise of assent, pounding into the other woman even more rapidly, though her rhythm had begun to go ever so slightly off. Not that it made any difference at this point to Essence, who, replacing her mouth over Serenity’s clit, reached down to touch her own, the blonde’s wetness still coating her fingers.

The Maid watched as Essence came with a loud shriek of laughter, a bit of liquid squirting out as Mercy withdrew just a little only to continue penetrating the contracting walls. She’d only ever seen Essence squirt a handful of times, and never any of the others. As they all aged, she thought it less and less likely.

“Oh, fuck yeah, you fucking slag,” Mercy said, slapping Essence’s shapely ass. A few more thrusts and she too came, shuddering and cursing up a storm.

Hearing and feeling her lovers willingly succumb to their pleasure proved to be too much for poor Serenity and despite her valiant attempts, she could no longer hold back.

“I- oh! No, no, no! I can’t- _merde_!” A sob tore from her hoarse throat and Serenity’s entire body convulsed, overcome with the force of her orgasm. Both Essence and Clarity cooed over her, easing the trembling woman through the cresting waves.

Prudence, hearing Serenity give in, cried out in frustration, still unable to reach her own peak without any external stimulation. Temperance only laughed, slowing her ministrations to an even more frustrating pace.

“I’m sorry,” Serenity said, finally able to find her voice. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t- I couldn’t- I’m sorry.” She shakily sat up, looking guilty. Temperance motioned for Mercy to take over for her, and she moved to cradle Serenity, stroking her hair.

“It’s alright, dear,” she said, helping Serenity out of her dress. “You did splendidly under the circumstances. But you’re going to have to take some punishment now, and knowing this bloody lot, they’ll want to call you some names. Is this okay?”

The Maid knew Serenity’s answer. Everyone knew. Serenity loved, though she herself felt terribly embarrassed and confused about it, being verbally degraded within reason. And sure enough, Serenity nodded, face flushing slightly in the dim light.

“I think we should let Prudence take charge of your punishment,” Mercy said, pulling away. Prudence inhaled deeply, trying to pull herself together. “Ah, ah, ah. This little toy stays right here. Don’t let it fall out, Prudence.”

Prudence grimaced, clenching as best she could around the toy. Difficult to do given the amount of natural lubricant, but she gingerly moved over to the still-shaking Serenity.

“Look at you, you little slut,” Prudence said, raising an eyebrow as she knelt over the blonde. Serenity flushed even hotter as she looked down in shame. “Couldn’t resist letting that tart over there make you cum, now could you?”

Serenity shook her head, demurely closing her legs. Prudence roughly grabbed her, easily turning the thin woman onto knees and forcing her to present her pale ass to the others. She quaked, both with embarrassment and anticipation.

“Are you going to spank the little tart?” Temperance asked gleefully, tossing her hair out of her face.

“Eventually,” Prudence answered, catching sight of the redhead’s high heels and red toenails. “But for now, Serenity. Would you show Temperance the proper respect?” She nodded towards Temperance’s feet and immediately Serenity crawled over. She lavished the pale foot with kisses, carefully unstrapping the designer heels for better access.

Temperance smirked down at the small blonde, still fully dressed in contrast to the other nude women around her. Perhaps noticing her state of dress, Clarity stood, easily finishing Mercy’s half-done job with the laces. Another deft flicks of the wrist, and the tight corset came away, baring small breasts still standing proudly on her chest.

Prudence snapped her fingers, catching Serenity’s attention. She then pointed to Temperance’s belt. “We’ve not pleased our darling British bombshell, and I think we should fix that immediately.” Serenity nodded eagerly, undoing the belt and sliding the tight leather pants down her long legs.

Her white skin practically glowed in the moonlight, and her ruby red lipstick still stayed mostly intact. Something the others all intended to rectify instantly. And, another snap of Prudence’s fingers, and Serenity instantly dove between Temperance’s legs, happily licking at the tangy juices that had gathered.

Temperance groaned, cradling Serenity’s head to her pussy. She felt it when Serenity gasped after someone, Prudence, probed at the wetness between her legs.

“The little slag seems like she’s enjoying herself,” Mercy said teasingly. She’d unbuckled herself from the harness, and was lazily stroking her own cunt.

“Can’t blame the dirty whore,” Clarity said, separating for a moment from Essence who she’d pinned down and was kissing hotly. “Temperance truly has a fantastic snatch. Even if she is a domineering bitch.”

Whatever retort Temperance had on the tip of her tongue went away as Prudence brought her hand down on Serenity’s pale behind, causing the slender woman to yelp and jump in surprise. She arched her back ever so slightly, redoubling her efforts to give Temperance the best possible pleasure.

Temperance pulled at her hair, a reddish pink flush traveling down the hollow of her throat and over her breasts. But even though Serenity was working wonders down there, she couldn’t take her eyes off of Essence and Clarity. The smaller woman had placed a small but strong vibrator to the other woman’s clit, and Essence’s shrieks of delight reverberated across the room. Clarity looked up and their eyes met for a brief moment before they both hurriedly looked away, smirking.

“Better make our friend cum hard and fast, little slut,” Prudence said sweetly, swatting her ass continuously. Serenity murmured something that sounded like an affirmation as she kept up her ministrations, not stopping for breath.

“Oh, fuck yes!” Temperance growled, gripping Serenity’s slender shoulders to remain upright. “Eat me out, you little slut. Oh, Jesus fucking- oh, fuck!” She went rigid as she came, her domineering façade cracking ever so slightly. From the mattress a few feet over, Clarity caught her eye, smiling tenderly. And the Maid couldn’t be sure that was the main cause of the little whimper the tall woman let out, but it might as well have been.

The Maid checked the clock. They’d been at it for hours, and as much as she enjoyed being a voyeur to these dirty, raunchy, hilariously fun nights, she knew she had much to do tomorrow, and with a last wink at Mercy, who’d made herself cum again, the Maid stole away to bed. Thank Clarity for the wonderful soundproof walls.

The next morning the Maid made short work of cleaning up and replacing the sheets of the mattresses for that night. Miraculously all six of them had had enough strength to make it back to their rooms. Usually someone would have been fucked so hard they passed out or fell asleep. Which was easy enough to solve if it was Clarity or Serenity, but if it happened to be Temperance or even Mercy, well they were shit out of luck.

Disposing of her gloves, the Maid left the toys to soak for a while and started opening the curtains around the villa, letting the light pour in. It was a lovely day out, and surely the non-hungover and deeply satisfied women would want to go down to the beach and soak up some rays. Or, in Temperance’s case, slather herself in sunscreen and hide underneath the little cabana.

Hearing a loud yawn behind her, the Maid turned around to see just the woman she’d been thinking of. Clad in a deep red robe and little else, Temperance sauntered across the room to admire the view. She’d cleaned her face of makeup, and tied her red hair back. The Maid liked Temperance like this. Casual, relaxed, unconcerned with appearance.

“Morning, Temperance,” the Maid said, pouring her a glass of cold water. “What time did you all wrap up?”

“Oh, I couldn’t say,” Temperance said, her accent more pronounced this early in the morning. “Sometime after Essence’s fifth orgasm. But then, that’s not saying much. Mmh, is Clarity awake yet?

“Why don’t you go and see yourself, hon?” the Maid answered, pointing towards the bedroom. Temperance scoffed and rolled her eyes, but started in the direction of Clarity’s room. The Maid called after her to see if the others were getting up in time for breakfast. She didn’t want to go through the trouble of setting out a feast for no one. “If they’re gonna be sleeping off their sexcapades, I need to know.”

Fifteen minutes later, all six of them sat around the table, munching on fruits and chatting like they hadn’t spent the night buried in each other’s vaginas.

Sometime after they ate, they all headed down to the beach just as the Maid suspected. Essence led the crew, dressed only in her sarong, a floppy hat and glasses, and her bikini bottoms.

“I don’t know why you bothered with them,” Prudence said, turning her nose up. She settled on one of the cushioned lounge chairs in the sun and began applying her sunscreen. “You’re going to just end up taking them off anyway.”

“And attempt to take mine with them,” Temperance added, hiding underneath the cabana. “Which, don’t even think about it, skank. I’m not about to burn my tits this early in the week.” Essence just winked in response.

The Maid noticed how Clarity stuck close to the cabana all afternoon. How she and Temperance hadn’t realized they had feelings for each other was beyond the Maid’s realm of rationality.

“Don’t stay out in the sun too long, any of you,” the Maid warned, speaking to everyone but looking directly at Essence. “Black women don’t burn, my ass. We burn too, honey. And I’ll aloe your back, but I won’t be quiet about it.”

Essence gave the Maid the middle finger to everyone’s amusement, but dutifully dragged herself out of the sun several times, either into the cabana or to romp around the waves in the crystal-clear water.

Settled in a chair in the corner of the cabana, the Maid flipped through a magazine, sipping her lemonade and decidedly not eavesdropping on Temperance and Clarity’s hushed conversation. Never during _La Recontre des Vertueux_ did any of the women speak of anything truly personal. But the Maid had come to notice that the closest anyone got always happened between those two. They discussed politics and social issues, and got into arguments about race and class. Moments like those, the Maid saw them as the real women they could be. Not to say the women of _La Recontre des Vertueux_ were unreal. They simply weren’t…it was as though these women were characters in a play. Only existing within the pages of their script. Not people meant to be out in the world running loose. But Clarity and Temperance had their moments. More than the others, even if the Maid saw those moments in them too.

“Do you ever imagine living here?” Temperance asked, trailing a hand just outside into the sand. “Full-time, I mean. Or at least for longer than the week we spend.”

“Sometimes,” Clarity answered vaguely. “The older I get the more I consider coming here for the winters. After all, Manhattan is brutal in January and February. And here is always so hot. But then I remember the changing climates and the terrible storms and floods. I have been lucky that my little island has remained in good condition, but it is only a matter of time. And I could never leave that city for anything. What about you?”

“What? Live here?” Temperance asked with a small laugh. “And melt away into this soft sand? No, I could never survive in this disgusting climate of yours. The humidity alone does terrible things to my poor hair.” She patted a frizzing bun to make her point. “God, I must have sweat away all that damned sunscreen already.”

“Let me,” Clarity said, popping the cap on Temperance’s special sunscreen. Temperance nodded, rolling fully onto her stomach. “And for the record, darling. Your hair is just fine. Looks lovely. But no, I meant live somewhere other than your fancy city life in England. Go to that quaint countryside mansion of yours, or maybe some Scottish moor?”

“Oh, I could never leave my dreary English city life,” Temperance said. The Maid smiled knowingly as she saw the redhead flush slightly as Clarity rubbed the lotion into her shoulder blades and beneath the straps of her bikini. “And Manhattan is just so…loud. I’d think a woman such as yourself would be much more partial to a place of solitude.”

“I am both surprised and not to hear you do not realize the true extent of solitude and anonymity that comes from living in a big city, my darling,” Clarity said, moving down to Temperance’s long legs. “In the city – my city – I could be the richest woman in the world and no one would know. I could be the poorest of beggars and no one would look twice at me. In Manhattan, I have all the solitude I want while still being able to pop over for a Broadway show or two. I could be anyone and anything and no one else would bother with me because why would they?”

“How could they not?” Temperance asked, almost unwittingly. She cleared her throat, turning over before Clarity had finished. “Thank you. For reapplying for me, I mean. My, it’s hot. I might go join Essence for a bit of fun.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Clarity said. Temperance gave her a small smile before walking down to the shoreline. She didn’t see the wistful expression on Clarity’s face as she watched her go. But the Maid did. She shook her head and went back to her book. If these rich ladies wanted to be pigheaded and ignorant, well, so be it.

Whatever deep remnants of their conversation remained, it didn’t show as the six women emerged from their rooms after a light dinner to spend another night in that mattress covered room. Unlike that first night, they didn’t bother doing themselves up too spectacularly. With contacts in for convenience, faces mostly free of makeup for once, bodies covered only by robes and simple lingerie, they seemed much more relaxed without the ceremony to think of.

Now that their fingertips and tongues had become reacquainted with each other’s bodies and sensitivities, the women were more than happy to fully delve into the toys. Each of them had a different collection in the meeting homes, and Clarity’s stash contained far less dildos than the others. She’d purchased a few to keep her guests happy, but since she had no use for them herself, she didn’t concern herself all that much.

“Not so fast, Mercy,” Prudence said, taking the harness from its usual wearer. Mercy raised an eyebrow challengingly. “You’re not the only one who can make a girl cum like that.”

“Oh?” Mercy said, teasingly running her hands down Prudence’s torso. “Put your money where your mouth is. You and I both know I can run you into the ground with my cock. You want to prove me wrong? Fine. Let’s see who can make one of our dear girls cum most. Temperance, you choose who gets which bitch to fuck.”

“Prepare to get your ass kicked for the second night in a row,” Temperance said, beckoning to Essence who gladly lowered her panties and bent over in front of Prudence, wiggling her ass teasingly.

“Typical,” Mercy scoffed, turning to Serenity after Temperance pointed. “Trust a Brit to pick the easy brown to colorize.” Essence blew her a kiss, slapping her own ass for emphasis.

“Oh, hon, our darling imperialist knows all too well who really runs the show around here,” Essence said, coyly winking at the redhead. “Blondie and I hold all the cards. Now, are you two gonna fuck us or not?”

In response, Prudence roughly grabbed Essence’s hips, forcibly maneuvering her into position. Essence squealed gaily. She lived for this, the Maid knew. Essence didn’t care whether she ended up on top or bottom. She never felt the need to assert her dominance like Temperance or Mercy sometimes did. Nor did she demure in the face of her own submissive tendencies like Serenity or even Prudence when she switched. No, Essence loudly and joyfully embraced her moments of submission without any hint of shame.

“C’mon you _puta_ bitch,” Essence taunted, egging Prudence on. “Fuck me like you mean it. Oh, yeah! Fuck! I want your nail marks on my hips, bitch.” Prudence growled, violently thrusting her hips into Essence’s pelvis. She always was an easy person to goad.

“If your bitch can still talk, you ain’t doing your job,” Mercy said, gently stroking Serenity’s sides even as she roughly fucked her from behind. Serenity whimpered, unable to say much more than that.

Temperance and Clarity, unwilling to just sit back and watch the show – though that certainly seemed fun too – made it their mission to up the ante just a bit. The smaller woman sank down in front of the blonde, murmuring soft praises in her ear. Temperance took a slightly different approach, playfully taunting her target to spur her on.

Essence came first with a loud yell and a string of French curse words. But Prudence’s lead was short lived as soon after Serenity followed, her whimpers swallowed by Clarity’s kiss.

The Maid didn’t linger that night. She knew the outcome all too well even if not the game. Essence, raunchy and eager, would have little issue climaxing time and time again. But Serenity, the most sensitive of them, would be unable to catch her breath under the skillful ministrations of Mercy’s cock, and with Clarity to coax every last ounce of pleasure out of her, the blonde Canadian would eventually tap out after seven, maybe eight if Mercy worked hard enough. Essence would only manage to get to six perhaps.

Falling behind, and when they inevitably switched positions, Prudence would lose a bit of her sure rhythm. Hovering over a squealing and taunting Essence, the Latina would be at a disadvantage.

Surely Mercy would then take her prize with glee, and Prudence would withstand the “punishment” of taking Mercy’s fantastic cock without genuine complaint, even if she would resist purely out of principle. _La Recontre des Vertueux,_ though never boring by any means, could become predictable if one knew the women as much as the Maid did.

And she knew she’d been right in her predictions by the tender way Prudence moved, the dazed look in Serenity’s eyes that didn’t fade until near midday, the smug smirk on Mercy’s lips.

“I take it you all had fun,” the Maid commented with a smirk of her own in Prudence’s direction. The Latina colored slightly, tossing her hair.

“It was hardly a proper competition anyway,” Prudence said primly as she gingerly sat down for her morning coffee. “Far too many variables. Besides, everyone knows I’d be able to best any one of these sorry souls in a game of true strength and skill not just ramming a silicone dildo into a vagina.”

“The only game you could beat us all in is how loud you scream when you cum, honey.” Essence said, cackling. “Oh, wait. I forgot about Temperance.” Temperance flung her napkin at her, giving her the finger. She looked about to get up and show Essence exactly how strong she could be when Clarity dropped down into her lap, instantly placating the fiery redhead.

The Maid rolled her eyes to the heavens with as much affection as she could muster. Then, she gave poor Serenity an icepack, made sure Prudence drank enough water, and slipped Essence some cream for the bruises at her hips.

The women didn’t spend their fourth night together on their backs or knees. Even women as virile and full of desire as them needed a night of rest. So, instead, they ate later down on the beach, a soft breeze blowing across the land. Candles and torches lit up the darkness, and soft music filled their ears.

“May I have this dance?” Essence asked, bowing deeply to Clarity. The smaller woman pretended to consider it, then, kicking off her shoes, she took Essence’s outstretched hand and off they went, both missing Temperance’s obvious frown.

But the redhead recovered quickly enough, and offered her hand to Serenity, spinning the blonde across the sand. Which left Prudence and Mercy to follow after.

The Maid settled next to the speakers and turned the volume up enough to be heard over the sounds of the waves crashing gently across the rocks.

“Why must you lead?” Clarity asked as Essence spun her around.

“Because I’m not under five feet tall,” Essence said with a laugh. Clarity made a noise of indignant disapproval, and easily took control of the dance.

“Must we dance to this white people garbage?” Prudence asked after yet another slow twirl. “Mind putting on a real song?” The Maid scrolled through the various playlists, finally settling on a mixture of Latin and, for some reason, Caribbean dance music, and the women all switched partners. Perhaps as a consolation prize from the nights before, Mercy let Temperance lead.

Undoubtedly, as they all whirled around the sand, Prudence and Essence had the best grasp of the music, putting the others to shame. But no one seemed too competitive that night, instead laughing and dancing together as friends.

Eventually, Serenity tapped out. “I don’t have the hips for this sort of thing,” she said with a laugh, sitting down to watch the others instead. Mercy bowed to Clarity and they did their best to keep up with the Afro-Latina couple to little avail.

“As I’ve found myself without a partner, would you do me the honor?” Temperance asked, offering the Maid a hand. The Maid pursed her lips, raising an eyebrow as she considered it. But with a nod, she stood and allowed herself to be spun around the sand.

Despite their paleness, even the Maid had to admit Temperance’s hips could move. She told her as much, causing Temperance to perk up slightly.

“I’ve never known you to be a coward, Temperance,” the Maid said quietly, causing Temperance to narrow her eyes in preparation of an argument.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Temperance answered, turning her nose up. “If you have a suggestion or complaint, I suggest you say it now.”

“Who, me?” The Maid looked the picture of innocence. “Oh, what do I know? I’m just the Maid…” Temperance opened her mouth to respond but the Maid continued talking without pause. “Who’s known the lot of you for decades now. And you’re not getting any younger, dear. Now, it’s my view that if you want something, there isn’t any harm in asking for it.” She looked pointedly towards Clarity who was being dipped by Mercy.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Temperance said with a scoff. The Maid simply raised her eyebrow, then she deliberately steered them towards the other couple and tapped Clarity on the shoulder.

“May I cut in?” the Maid asked. Clarity nodded graciously and stepped aside. Temperance turned slightly red but offered her hand to the smaller woman.

“Oh, I was hoping to avoid this dance,” Clarity teased. Temperance stiffened slightly.

“We can always sit down if you prefer,” she said hurriedly, but Clarity shook her head, smiling softly. She reached up and tucked Temperance’s hair behind her ear to better see her face.

“I was hoping to avoid this because you are so tall,” Clarity said with a laugh. “And I am not. It hurts my neck to have to look up so high, darling. And my stilettos just don’t function well on this sand.”

“Oh, well if that’s the case, I believe I have a perfect solution,” Temperance said. And before Clarity could say anything to protest, she easily lifted the smaller woman up by her hips, bidding her to wrap her legs around her hips. Clarity held on, laughing in delight as they danced around the sand.

The Maid watched in satisfaction. She knew better that to think they’d ever talk about what they needed to talk about. But the two women were smiling, so she considered it a successful night.

The next night of _La Recontre des Vertueux,_ the six women donned their finest just for the hell of it. Personally, the Maid wondered why they hadn’t worn the gowns dancing so at least they could get some use out of them, but then she remembered having to brush sand from designer hems never ended well.

The Maid spent more time carefully gathering discarded haute couture gowns, delicate sheer stockings – some of which had been torn beyond repair – and priceless jewelry than she did observing that night.

Collecting forced her to be closer to the action than ever. To thank her, more than a few times the women pivoted to display their behinds in her general direction. Something the Maid enjoyed very much indeed. She’d always been partial to a lovely posterior.

The dress up night often included a bit of fun roleplay scenarios, which the Maid was sad to be unable to completely focus on. For rich ladies, they all seemed to have fantastic sexual imaginations. Though the Maid suspected Clarity, the true creative mind among them, had something to do with why they hardly ever acted out anything too cliché or pornoesque.

The Maid also swore the women must have discussed their fantasies beforehand on some deep internet chatroom protected by about twenty dozen walls courtesy of Mercy, the true technological genius among them. Either that or all six of them just happened to be experts in improv as well as mind readers. Though how they managed to authentically roleplay while starting off in diamonds and satin gowns was beyond the Maid. Rich people.

She left them to their surprisingly detailed performance of an uppity rich tea luncheon that soon devolves into an orgy after a pair of vagabond renegades show the prissy ladies what they’re missing. A bit on the nose, if you asked the Maid, though she found it amusing how all the women took on archetypes entirely opposite their own person. Always was a fun time when sweet Serenity acted like a domineering bad-bitch, and wild and raunchy Essence took on a scandalized virgin attitude.

 Not everyone managed to make it back to their room that night. The Maid entered the room to find Prudence sprawled out on one of the mattresses, the sheets tangled around her legs and torso, and Mercy lying horizontally on another, very little hidden by the blankets.

Chuckling, the Maid started towards the open terrace door. Standing there, nude as anything, Clarity stood on the rungs of the railing, gazing out into the morning mists. She didn’t move even when the Maid joined her, shutting the door to keep out the bugs.

“Best hope some government doesn’t have any drone flying above the pacific today,” the Maid said, looking up into the bright clear sky. “Otherwise they’ll have an eyeful of you, Miss. Clarity.”

“They should be so lucky,” Clarity answered, and she stretched without a care in the world as to who saw. The Maid didn’t bother to hide her own appreciative gaze. Though she made a point never to put one of her employer’s physical appearance over another, Clarity’s attractiveness couldn’t be ignored. A bit too tiny for the Maid’s personal tastes, but certainly very pretty. Yes, she didn’t have any issues understanding Temperance’s little crush. “How are you doing? We running you too ragged?”

“Not at all,” the Maid answered. As far as working for wealthy women during a week-long sex party went, she had nothing to complain about. She wondered sometimes just how many more years they would continue their yearly tradition. Though the Maid had no idea how old her employers were, she figured they all had to be at least older than their late forties. And though far from slowing down, the Maid had noticed they’d let the more strenuous BDSM fall by the wayside in the past few years.

She left Clarity to her thoughts knowing the week was almost over already and the host would be consumed with wondering if it had been a success. She had nothing to worry about, but it never did stop the poor dear.

On her way inside, the Maid nearly collided with Temperance who had been lurking near the door. They exchanged eye contact, and Temperance blushed at having been caught, but the Maid just nodded her head to the door.

“She’s a bit anxious about how the week’s been,” the Maid murmured. “Go reassure her won’t you?” Temperance nodded. She held a small black robe in her hands. Well, at least someone had concerned themselves with Clarity’s modesty.

The Maid always made a point to stay for the final night. Each year it was a toss-up, quite literally, to see if their final few hours would be spent making tender love to show their affection for each other, or vigorously and enthusiastically fucking to tide them over until next year. The Maid didn’t know which she preferred more, honestly. So, as she flipped the ceremonial coin – which was really just whatever she had in the bottom of her purse – the Maid didn’t feel an overly crushing sense of anticipation. Last year they had made sweet, sweet love all through the night. This year they would be fucking each other’s brains out. And the Maid didn’t miss the shiver of delight that rippled through the group, nor the sly smirks sent Temperance’s way.

Though not part of the official traditions, each year on the final night, their most consistently dominant member would relinquish her control completely. No competition, no resistance. Just pure unadulterated submission.

In the early days, Temperance had only just begun her journey into the art of bottoming, and hadn’t been altogether comfortable. Because of that, it hadn’t solidified into an unofficial tradition until years later. Now, confident enough in her usual authority, Temperance loved these nights. And so did everyone else. Something about taking a normally strong and powerful woman and fucking her until she begged for mercy really did it for them.

Temperance had protested early on, of course, to a night spent just on her, but the others wouldn’t hear of it. They all had their fun, and each of them wanted their fun to be at the “expense” of their favorite redhead.

“What shall we do with her this year?” Prudence mused, circling the tallest woman.

“Ooh, it’s been a few years since we had her call us all Mistress,” Essence said, twirling one of Temperance’s red curls in her finger. “What do we think ladies?” Nods around the room confirmed it.

“Yes, Mistress Essence,” Temperance said after Essence pointedly raised an eyebrow. She spoke with just a hint of surliness the others would soon make sure disappeared even if they all so loved a bratty sub.

“Strip,” Mercy ordered at once. “But keep those damned heels where they are. I want you to remain nice and tall so we can all get a good look at your naked body.”

“Yes, Mistress Mercy,” Temperance said. She took off her clothes as gracefully as she could, struggling slightly as she worked the tight pants over the heels. The others watched, impressed. They all readily admitted had any of them tried that, even Clarity who wore heels more than Temperance, they’d have likely lost their balance and looked ridiculous.

Temperance stood tall and proud, thrusting her small breasts forward without prompting. The pink nipples puckered and stiffened almost immediately under their watchful gazes.

“Go out onto the terrace, Temperance,” Serenity said. Her tone didn’t change from the soft serenity it had been all week, making her request all the more dirty. “Sit down on one of the chairs and hook your legs over the arms. Spread them nice and wide so anyone out there could see everything if they looked.”

“Yes, Mistress Serenity,” Temperance said with a slight shiver of excitement. One of the best things about the villa in the French Polynesia was that they could be outside fully naked without a single fear of being seen. And though Temperance felt humiliated at any sort of outdoor display, she loved that feeling.

Doing as she was told, Temperance waited, thankful for the mosquito netting the Maid had let down earlier just in case. She didn’t fancy getting bit anywhere, especially between her legs, thanks very much.

“Look at you, you filthy girl,” Essence taunted, leaning her back against the railing. Temperance squirmed as the others, including the Maid, gathered to watch the spectacle. “Legs as wide as a common whore. What would those rich aristocrats you associate think if they saw you now?”

“They’d think you a harlot,” Clarity said, trailing a finger down Temperance’s neck, over her breasts. Temperance gasped at that, flushing slightly. “Just a dirty whore practically dripping already. And we’ve barely started. For shame.”

“Ooh, you know what would be truly cruel?” Prudence said, looking far too gleeful. “If we tied her up like this. Just left her all spread out and wanting, and went back inside. Left her desperate and horny and able to hear all of us having a grand old time and unable to do anything about it.”

“How diabolical,” Essence said, eyes lighting up. Temperance shook at that.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Temperance said, her voice somehow even lower than usual. At once, six pairs of eyes landed on her, judging, scolding, demanding respect. “I’m sorry, Mistresses. Please. Please don’t leave me out here. I’ll be good. So good for you all.”

“We’ll see about that,” Mercy said, tapping a pale thigh. “Touch yourself for us. Don’t even think about coming.”

“Yes, Mistress Mercy.” Temperance immediately began drawing small circles on her clit, her breath hitching with every inhale. They all watched and taunted, enthralled by the little show. Just before she tipped over the edge, Temperance stopped, panting and sweating.

“What shall we do with her next?” Serenity asked, licking her lips absently. Clarity gave Temperance’s sensitive pussy a light pat, causing the taller woman to jump.  

“I don’t think she’s quite made up for that little comment earlier,” she said. “Let’s all pick something to teach her a lesson about respecting her betters. Can’t let the Brits get too arrogant. Essence, since you were the one she insulted by speaking out of turn, you go first.”

Essence grinned. She made herself comfortable on one of the lounge chairs and motioned for Temperance to lay across her lap, ass up. Temperance shivered, knowing what was coming next, but hastened to obey. The Maid lost count at exactly how many spanks Essence administered, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if the neighboring islands heard Temperance’s loud squealing. The others made sure to stay well away from the tall woman’s flailing legs.

Next, after giving Temperance a moment to recover and blink away any residual tears, Prudence brought them all back inside. She pointed to a red satin pillow, ordering the redhead to grind against it until she told her to stop. They all knew Temperance disliked pillow humping on principle, and that she considered it degrading and desperate even if it felt divine.

Face nearly as red as her behind, Temperance rocked her hips into the pillow, unable to stop from moaning in pleasure. She left a visible wet spot behind, something the others teased her mercilessly for.

Serenity snapped her fingers and pointed down at her feet. And, stifling a sigh, Temperance crawled over, and began lavishing attention on her sandaled feet. This was reparations from the second night. Not that Temperance minded so much. They were clean, and that’s what mattered. And she liked it better, it seemed, than Mercy’s request for her to spread her pussy lips wide as she administered five quick slaps which only left the British woman more frustrated.

Finally, Temperance turned to Clarity, and her expression shifted just a little. Hardly noticeable except for the fact that the Maid knew her all too well. She looked almost excited. Anticipatory at the thought of being at Clarity’s complete command.

“Why do I get the impression that no matter what I tell you, you’d love it?” Clarity said, looking down at Temperance with interest. “Oh, I could be positively evil and punish you by ordering you not to touch me all night, but that seems a bit harsh, doesn’t it? Like the punishment doesn’t fit the crime.”

“No, Mistress,” Temperance said, silently begging with her bright blue eyes. “Besides, it’s my punishment. Not yours.”

“Too right,” Clarity said with a small smirk. “Well, I believe what I have planned for tonight will end up being punishment enough. Let’s get on with it. On your back, darling. Legs nice and wide. That’s it.”

They ran Temperance ragged that night. The Maid didn’t think she could recall an instance where the redhead had ever begged so desperately, so pathetically, before. They kept her deliciously on edge with no hope of mercy any time soon. Mercy gladly showed off her strapon skills. Temperance only ever allowed anyone to fuck her this way on the final night, and Mercy looked forward to it every year. With her pale skin and wide hips, Temperance always came away with such lovely marks.

Able to embrace a bit of her dominant side, Serenity gladly bound the taller woman to the mattress, leaving her open and vulnerable to anything they desired. And no matter how much Temperance pulled at her bonds, she wouldn’t escape. No one doubted she could if she truly wanted to, but she wouldn’t.

The Maid couldn’t have been the only one who noticed how, this time, Temperance seemed enthralled by Clarity most of all. The others, perhaps picking up on how the British woman looked to her first and foremost, subtly backed away, letting Clarity take the lead. Of course, both woman in question remained entirely oblivious to this unintentional preference.

“Please!” Temperance begged, voice ragged and hoarse. “Please, Mistress! Please, I- I need- I need to cum!”

“You need to, or you want to?” Clarity asked, stroking Temperance’s sweat soaked face. “Oh, I know you well, Temperance. I know you can go a little longer.”

“She sounds so pretty when she begs,” Essence said, her words punctuated by a delighted moan as Prudence swirled her tongue just so. Temperance whimpered as she watched them, all able to give in to their climaxes as many times as they wanted.

The Maid knew the others were purposefully orgasming more and more just to add salt to the wound. They’d all taken a turn on Temperance’s face, smearing her lipstick across her face and their own thighs. And they’d switched among themselves so many times, the Maid lost count. She thought for a moment that when Clarity had masturbated while hovering atop Temperance’s bound body, the poor redhead would inadvertently cum just from that. But though she’d been close, she hadn’t.  

Right around one in the morning, the Maid saw a flash of panic cross Temperance’s face as she wondered if perhaps the others would simply torment her all night with no promise of release. They’d done it only a handful of times over the years, and always rewarded her the next morning, if only to ensure the poor overworked airline people wouldn’t bear the brunt of Temperance’s ire and frustration.

But at last, after she’d begged enough, in the Maid’s opinion, for a dozen orgasms, Clarity rewarded her by sliding down between her legs. And Temperance came so violently the Maid feared she’d dislocate a limb. So loudly she felt certain they must have heard her across the Pacific.

She left then. Not because she wanted to, or because her employers ordered her out. But the Maid never stayed to see the aftercare. Some things, she felt, were best kept private between them.

And though the Maid wished she could let the women sleep in, let them doze away the day, she knew they had flights to catch. Bags to pack, and showers to take. So, far earlier than anyone would have wanted, she emerged from her room to find all six of them had fallen asleep on the mattresses.

Temperance and Clarity lay curled up together, the marks on Temperance’s wrists just visible in the morning light. The others all lay in a pile a few feet away, sated and peaceful. The Maid only took a little pleasure in waking them up.

Knowing neither Temperance nor Clarity would want to be a spectacle, she went to them first. The redhead stubbornly refused to get up until the Maid threatened to douse them with a bucket of ice. Honestly, she felt a bit like a mother trying to rouse her children for the first day of school.

But soon enough, all six of them were up, showered, packed, and ready. Four of them, Serenity, Essence, Prudence, and Mercy, shared a ride back to the ferry. Their planes all took off around midday. Predictably, Temperance remained behind, having booked herself a flight that didn’t leave until after nightfall. She always did this when at Clarity’s house, just as Clarity did it at hers. Rich people. Honestly.

“Do you need help with anything?” Temperance asked as watched the Maid strip the sheets of the mattresses. The Maid shook her head with a smile, and pointed towards the direction of the beach where Clarity was no doubt fussing up a storm.

She didn’t see either of them for the rest of the day.

At last, around late afternoon, Temperance emerged from her room, bags packed and ready. She had a ride waiting for her out front, and the Maid had packed a small snack for the trip.  

“Thank you,” Temperance said quietly. “Thank you for everything.” And before the Maid could answer, she pressed an envelope into her hands. The Maid took it reflexively, staring at it in confusion. Her employers had all already paid her well before they landed in the French Polynesia. And tipping just wasn’t done in person. It was on the tip of her tongue to question it but in another instant, Temperance had given her a quick hug and sailed out of the villa doors, leaving the Maid to shrug and count her money.

The Maid didn’t comment on how Clarity brushed her off when she offered to change the sheets in the largest bedroom as they moved her things back in. She didn’t say a word when she peaked inside to see her comfortably tucked into the sheets Temperance had slept on for a week, nor did she judge how Clarity had her face buried in the pillow.

And the Maid didn’t think of the envelope incident again until a year later when she showed up at Mercy’s place a day early to help prepare the technological haven for a week of sex.

“Have you heard at all from Temperance?” Mercy asked almost immediately. “She’s not responded to any messages. We’re getting worried. Did she say anything to you? No don’t answer that. I just- I hope she’s okay.”

The Maid felt the mood change acutely almost immediately. Unbalanced, the five women valiantly tried to continue their traditions, but without Temperance’s wit and candor, everything was all off.

Perhaps most lost without the British redhead, Clarity floundered, though she hid her anxiety admirably. Still, _La Recontre des Vertueux_ had not met for so long that its members could not pick up on her dismay.

Feeding on Clarity’s negative energy, the others suffered. The Maid did what she could to make _La Recontre des Vertueux_ as decent as it could be under the circumstances, and though her employers made sure to let her know her efforts were appreciated, it only helped to an extent.

Prudence and Mercy still played their chess games. They were now 45-44. The others spent more time toying with Mercy’s fancy gadgets than anything else. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, Essence spoke up.

“Look, ladies. I know we’re all missing Temperance. But we can’t spend our week moping about. She is an important member of _La Recontre des Vertueux_ _,_ but not the only member. And I pray Temperance’s absence is not due to any harm that has come to her, but we shall not know unless she tells us.”

“You’re right,” Clarity said, speaking up. “I admit most of the moping has been my doing. _La Recontre des Vertueux_ comes but once a year, so let’s not waste it any longer.”

“Temperance wouldn’t want us to sit around a chess board the whole time,” Prudence said, not in the least because Mercy had just put her in checkmate. “Let’s have some fun.”

It was still a bit too early to adjourn to their nighttime romps, but Mercy perked up. “Well, it might be too complicated for you old bats to understand, but I’ve got quite the gaming system in this place. If _Assassin’s Creed_ is a bit too much, I can always load up Wii Sports.”

“Sounds like fighting words to me, _ma cherie_ ,” Essence said, narrowing her eyes playfully. “I’ll crush you like a bug.”

Several spirited rounds of Mario Kart later, everyone seemed much more inclined to enjoy themselves. They laughed, and teased, and the Maid could almost pretend things had returned to normal. Even if the absence of their tallest, most redhaired, most British member could never be forgotten.

Still, it wasn’t until the final night arrived that they fell into melancholy once more. Unsure what to do without their usual star, the five remaining women hesitantly waited for the Maid to fish out a coin. Until at last, Serenity spoke up.

“I- um, actually, could we perhaps not flip anything this time?” She asked hesitantly. “Only, well, given the circumstances, I’m not sure if I’m in the proper mindset or emotionally prepared to, um, make love. We might find rougher sex more…cathartic?”

“You wouldn’t take my job away from me, now?” The Maid teased, but she put away her coin. As she watched that night, the Maid couldn’t say whether or not Serenity’s request had them better off or not. Especially the next morning when Mercy somberly held up the hat to determine next year’s host.

“Should we add Temperance?” she asked, holding up a slip of paper. “I mean, maybe we should- it would be rude to have her host if she’s not here…” After nods from the others, she stuffed Temperance’s name into her pocket, and held out the hat for the Maid to choose from.

The Maid decided against making a show of things this time. She knew Clarity couldn’t wait to flee from the house as soon as she could.

“Well, looks like it’s my turn,” Prudence said. “See you all next year then?” One by one, after sneaking furtive glances around, they all nodded. And then they left. And then the Maid started to clean. What else could she do?

Without Temperance something was lost. Another two years passed, and still no one heard so much of a whisper from her. Despondent, Clarity used all her acting skills to hide her true feelings. Miraculously, the members of _La Recontre des Vertueux_ bought it hook, line, and sinker. Well, the Maid supposed saying that was too cruel. More than likely, the others were so caught up in their own confusion and grief that they weren’t at their peak. She herself had almost missed the signs, but for the fact that she knew Clarity all too well.

She and Temperance had always been the most connected. A strange pairing indeed, the Maid had thought in the beginning. The tallest and loudest, and the smallest and most pensive. But the more she learned about them, the more it made perfect sense. Each of the members of _La Recontre des Vertueux_ adored each other. Yet four of the six went home after each week to husbands and wives and families. From what the Maid had gleaned over the years, she knew almost certainly that neither Temperance nor Clarity had anyone else. And that availability meant a chance, just the sliver of a chance, that something more could happen. Even the very idea could have been alluring enough.

On the third year without Temperance, the Maid took action. Serenity’s lodge in the mountains didn’t have soundproofing. So, when the Maid awoke in the middle of the last night to dead silence, she was understandably suspicious.

Venturing out into the deserted halls, the Maid peaked into the sex room. Though it was barely half past eleven, and her employers never retired so early on the final night, no one remained.

Concerned, the Maid tiptoed around the lodge, pressing her ear to various bedroom doors. She could hear pacing from Mercy’s room and the loud hum of a laptop. From Essence’s room, she heard the mattress creak as she tossed and turned. Prudence’s room was nearly silent save for a tired sigh. The Maid heard Serenity muttering to herself and opening drawers. When she stopped outside Clarity’s room, she paused. Inside, just barely audible, soft gasps and sniffs.

She opened the door before she could think better of it to see the small woman curled up on top of the soft duvet, small tears rolling down her cheeks. Clarity turned away when she saw the Maid, too embarrassed to be seen like this.

With a soft sigh, the Maid sat down on the edge of the bed. She handed Clarity a tissue and waited until she’d blown her nose and dried her tears before asking if she cared to talk about it.

“Might make you feel better,” the Maid said casually, picking at her nails. “Or we could just sit here together.”

“Sometimes I don’t know which scenario is worse,” Clarity said dully. “Temperance could be hurt or dead. Something horrible could have happened to her to make her unable to reply. Or maybe she just decided she didn’t want anything to do with us and cut off contact of her own accord. And it’s awful that I even think that because obviously the first option is far worse than the second. I just- I thought- I don’t know why it bothers me so much that the better option hurts almost as much in my darkest thoughts.”

“Honey, you and I both know why,” the Maid said. Temperance was gone. No use keeping her mouth shut any longer.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Clarity scoffed, sniffing. “I couldn’t- I thought about it, of course. For years I’ve thought about it. But I mean, we don’t exist. Not really. We’re just- we come together as our ideal and most sensual selves. Clarity, she’s someone strong and clever and actually comfortable around people. She’s not- she’s not really real, though. How could Temperance love me if she doesn’t even know who I am?”

“There’s more truth to all of your personas than you give credit for, Miss. Clarity,” the Maid said thoughtfully. “Now, you’ve just given me perfectly logical reasons you couldn’t fall in love with Temperance. And yet, here we are. And if you think I haven’t noticed you wasting away on us, think again.”

“I miss her,” Clarity said, and more tears leaked from her eyes. “I miss her every day. How can I miss someone I only see seven days out of a year? It’s absurd. Ridiculous.” She huffed, looking almost angry at herself before abruptly wilting. “I do though. I miss her smile, her wit, her complete confidence. Even when she was at her most vulnerable, she always had this aura of confidence around her.”

“Confidence can be attractive,” the Maid agreed amicably. “No shame in liking Temperance. But something tells me it’s a little more than liking how she looks and struts around in leather pants.”

“No,” Clarity said. And though the Maid didn’t think it possible, she looked even more miserable. “If only it were that simple. Were I just appreciative of how beautiful Temperance is, things would be so much easier. But I- I can’t help myself, and I start imagining candlelit dates, and cooking together, and waking up in her arms. It’s pathetic! God, I’m- I’m too old for this…this _pining_!”

“Oh, no one’s ever too old for love, Clarity,” the Maid said with a small chuckle. “But just because she’s gone doesn’t mean you should be forgetting to eat. Oh, grieve all you like. That’s healthy. But don’t think I haven’t noticed how thin you’ve gotten.”

“I’m fine,” Clarity said, pushing herself up. “I just- I- I guess I’m just- oh, sometimes I wish I did have someone to remind me to eat.” The Maid took one look at this woman, this small, sad woman brimming with hidden steel, and decided that someone had to look after this foolish rich lady before she starved herself to death accidently. And why shouldn’t it be her?

The Maid all but insisted. Which was how Clarity found herself with staff for the first time in her life. The Maid moved to Manhattan a few months after Serenity’s hosting. She’d expected resistance from the land of the so-called free, but this seemed to be one instance where money trumped racism.

As far as jobs went, working for Clarity full-time wasn’t the strangest she’d ever taken on by any means. The rich woman valued her privacy and wasn’t comfortable sharing a home with anyone, even the Maid. So, one Zillow search later, the Maid had her own apartment two floors down, all expenses paid. It made her day to see the neighbors’ stares and hear their whispers.

The two women learned a lot about each other in those first few weeks, not in the least their real names. Clarity had been very excited, by her standards, to be able to call the Maid by any name. Of course, though she knew Clarity’s true name now, the Maid still found herself saying “Clarity” and neither minded much.

But working for Clarity meant the Maid’s loyalties deepened and her investment strengthened. Which was how, using Clarity’s credit card, the Maid ended up on a plane to Manchester, England.

She knew it would have taken someone as tech savvy and shady as Mercy less than five minutes to find Temperance with what little she knew, but the Maid had her own sets of skills. She’d watched enough of those TV crime shows to Sherlock her way to victory, after all.

First, Temperance was British. Obviously. It didn’t take a genius to work that out. But the Maid knew British accents well, and she recognized a Mancunian accent when she heard one, no matter how much more posh Temperance tried to sound. Her native accent came out in the throes of passion and in the early mornings.

And how many filthy rich women could there be in Manchester? A few well-phrased google searches later, the Maid found exactly the woman she was looking for, photo and all. Including a name. Knowing Clarity’s true name had rattled the Maid enough, but knowing Temperance’s gave her a turn.

Still, the Maid boarded the plane, intending to fly back that very night. No matter how Temperance reacted to her presence, the Maid didn’t plan on sticking around. Whether she got the rich lady to see sense or not, she wasn’t about to let Clarity catch on to her scheme.

What surprised the Maid first and foremost was the house. More of an upscale condo than anything. She glanced down at her phone one more time just to make sure she’d gotten the address right. Certainly, it looked like a nice place, and a nice neighborhood, but she’d been to Temperance’s mansion in the countryside many times, and this lovely little place didn’t seem at all up to the redhead’s standards.

More surprising, when the Maid knocked on the door, the very same redhead she’d been looking for answered. Not a maid, not a butler, not a doorperson. But the woman herself.

“What- how did you find me?” Temperance asked after a long moment of shocked silence. She wasn’t dressed for company, but instead wearing a pair of comfortable-looking sweatpants and a red tank top. Her hair was piled atop her head in a mess of unstyled curls and she wore no makeup.

“May I come in?” the Maid asked. “I’ve flown all the way from Manhattan, if you’d believe it, and I could do with some of that British tea you always brag about.”

The Maid figured it was more out of complete surprise that Temperance stepped aside and let her in than anything else. Five minutes later, they sat across from each other at a clean kitchen island, both waiting to see if the other would make the first move.

“Well, Mercy finally found me, then,” Temperance said at last, sounding resigned. “And they sent you to bring me back, I suppose.”

“Not exactly,” the Maid answered, leisurely sipping her tea. After suffering an ungodly flight, she deserved this. “Your friends respect you too much to go looking for your true identity, Temperance. Even if they are all worried sick about you. For all they know, you could be dead or in some medical coma. They all miss you. Especially Clarity.” The Maid kept her gaze on Temperance’s face, looking for any reaction to that. She looked away, and something akin to guilt flitted across her pale face.

“Well, obviously I am not, so you can just go report to them that I’m perfectly fine, and I’ll thank them not to send you across the ocean to bother me again,” Temperance said coolly.

“No one knows I’m here, Temperance,” the Maid said, leveling her with a gaze. “I found you all by myself because something had to be done. I’m working for Clarity now, you know. And seeing how your absence has affected her just cuts me up inside.”

“Yes, well.” Temperance shook out her hair, running her fingers through it anxiously. “It can’t be helped. I- I just- it seemed ridiculous. What we were doing each year. Fucking and fucking with nothing real. I’ve better things to do in my life.”

“We both know just because you all used fake names and didn’t talk about personal things didn’t make it any less real,” the Maid said confidently. “Who you were was just a reflection of who you truly are. And I don’t believe for one minute you left because you decided one day that your week of seventh heaven was a waste of time. You’d never just leave Clarity like that. No notice, no goodbye. Now, you may not want to hear this, but she misses you, woman. And at the very least she deserves to know you’re alive.”

“And what good with that do her?” Temperance snapped, and the Maid smiled to hear some of her usual brashness return. “What good would knowing I’m alive do Clarity? After all that’s happened, I couldn’t possibly- oh, it doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t it? Well, in case you feel like talking, I’ve got all day,” the Maid said patiently. Honestly, dealing with these women should have qualified her for a degree in psychology. Temperance clenched her jaw, stubbornly staring at some invisible sight just behind the Maid’s head. But the Maid knew how to play the game. Temperance may have been stubborn and set in her ways, but she hated a silence more than anything.

“Oh, damn you,” Temperance said a few minutes later. “Fine, you want to know what happened? I failed, that’s what happened. Look around you. It’s not exactly the posh millionaire mansion you expected is it? How could it be when I lost most of the family fortune in a series of horrible investments? I’m not- I’m not disgustingly rich anymore so there was no point in my going to _La Recontre des Vertueux_. No point at all.”

The Maid made a noise of disapproval at that, leaning forward against the island table. Temperance squirmed slightly. Seemed to her, she said, that just because she wasn’t rolling in it didn’t mean the others would toss her aside like garbage. They’d still certainly embrace her with open arms.

“I know,” Temperance said, and she sounded miserable. “I know that’s exactly what they would do. But I don’t want their charity, and I certainly don’t want their _pity_.” She spat the word as though it were the lowest of derogatory terms. “God, the cost of hosting is a small fortune that I just can’t afford anymore. I lost almost everything, and yes, I know I must sound like a privileged white bitch, because clearly I’m not in the poor house. But middle class is still a fall from grace.”

“Well, upper middle,” the Maid corrected, waving a hand vaguely towards the outside. It may not have been a ten-bedroom estate, but certainly sat well within the boundaries of a safely affluent neighborhood. “Actually, more like lower upper, hon.”

“Lower upper, then, and not for much longer,” Temperance conceded. “But if you can believe it, _La Recontre des Vertueux_ wasn’t exactly at the forefront of my mind. Shockingly enough, finding a job with no skills and a degree twenty years out of date wasn’t easy.” At the Maid’s raised eyebrow, Temperance amended herself with a blush. “Oh, alright. Thirty years out of date, then. It doesn’t matter. I just- by the time I got back on my feet I’d missed Mercy’s meeting, and I couldn’t- I was…ashamed.”

“And how’s working life treating you, Temperance?” The Maid asked, completely turning the conversation on its side. Temperance blinked at the rapid shift, but shrugged half-heartedly.

“Not to disparage secretaries, but I never thought I’d be one,” she said sardonically. “I now spend forty-seven hours a week answering phone calls and writing memos. All in all, not terrible. The publishing company I work for gives out free samples of their books at least.” She waved vaguely towards a pile on the hutch.

The Maid glanced over at the sizable stack, and almost immediately did a double take. Oblivious, Temperance almost reverently ran her finger over the top book’s cover.

“I never knew publishing companies gave away books several years out of date,” the Maid said skeptically, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not to sound rude, of course.”

“Oh, well…” Temperance tossed her hair in a way reminiscent of how she used to when she felt caught out. “They gave me the latest one, at any rate. And well, I liked the story so much I went out and got myself the others. I’m not bankrupt after all. Besides, she- um, I suppose she’s a _she_ at any rate. Er, _they_ just have this writing style that makes me weep…” She sighed, and oh, the Maid recognized that look: that wistful almost dreamy smile.

“Well, it seems to me you’ve had time to adjust, and you’re doing well for yourself, Temperance. I won’t tell you what you should do, but there are five women in the world who just want to know you’re alive. Clarity at least-”

“Stop!” Temperance said harshly, suddenly standing up. The Maid raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. “God, just stop bringing Clarity into this, please! She’s better off. They all are. Not because I lost money, god no. But we’re not supposed to- I never meant to-” She paced the small kitchen, unable to bring herself to say the words.

“You fell in love, Temperance,” the Maid said. She did not mince words or speak in innuendo. She knew it wouldn’t have done any good.

Temperance whirled around, eyes wide. She flushed a deep shade of red, and couldn’t meet the Maid’s eye. But under the Maid’s knowing gaze, she didn’t even consider denying it. What good would it be to deny the truth?

“Yes. I did. And it’s pathetic. I can’t- What does it say about me that I fell in love with a lie?” Temperance dejectedly slumped back down onto the kitchen stool. The Maid found it telling that both women had chosen the same argument against why they couldn’t fall in love. Why it was wrong and dirty and shameful.

“How could I have fallen in love with someone I know so little about?” Temperance asked though she looked like she didn’t truly want to know the answer. The Maid just told her what she’d said to Clarity months earlier. There was more truth to their personas than they realized. And then she asked Temperance what she knew about Clarity.

“Nothing,” Temperance insisted in despair. “Nothing real. I don’t know her name or her…anything.”

“Not true,” said the Maid. “You know her favorite color. You know she’s intelligent, and witty, and even her politics. You know she hates the taste of coffee but loves the smell. You know she gives you the best room in her villa even though she hates having to change locations.”

“I know she always seems to be the first of us to wake and the last to fall asleep,” Temperance said wistfully. “I know she trusts us all implicitly, but can’t bring herself to give up an ounce of control. I know she’s alone. I know- I _think_ …she likes it that way but even she sometimes gets lonely. I- I- what do you want from me? What is the point of this?” Temperance rubbed at her face tiredly. She looked near tears. Though out of sadness, frustration, or anger, the Maid didn’t know.

“To prove you know more about Clarity than you believe. And that her name is just one little detail that means nothing. You don’t know my name, but does that make this any less real? She loves you too, in case that was any concern. Now, I believe I have a plane to see if I can catch.” The Maid stood to leave. Temperance instantly sat up, surprised at such an abrupt announcement. It had barely been an hour since the Maid even arrived. But the Maid had said all she needed to.

“You’ll have to do the rest, Temperance,” the Maid said, gathering her purse, and putting her cup into the sink.

“Me?” Temperance repeated, sounding far too much like a petulant child. “Why me? I can’t- it’s not real. And even if it were, I- Manhattan is massive. I’d never find her.”

“You can and you will,” the Maid said with one foot out the door. “Oh, and Temperance. Maybe you oughta take a long and hard look at those books of yours. You didn’t fall in love with them for nothing.”

And, as Temperance stared at her small pile of lesbian literature, a look of wonder and disbelief on her face, the Maid slipped out the door and disappeared into a taxi before the redhead could rush after her.

Truthfully, she hadn’t had to rush away so quickly. Her flight back home didn’t take off for several more hours yet. She knew Temperance and her could have talked circles around each other for eons, but she thought it best to let the poor woman digest the day’s events. Maybe have herself a good cry and a slice of cake or perhaps a glass of regularly priced vodka. And besides, the Maid herself wanted to do a bit of sightseeing before it was too late.

The Maid didn’t dwell too hard on her impromptu flight across the Atlantic on her employer’s credit card. What had been done was done. She’d forcibly served the ball into Temperance’s court and it was up to her to return volley.

Those two had danced around each other for too many years to count. The Maid didn’t hold her breath in thinking anything would ever come of her tireless efforts anytime soon. Between Temperance’s stubbornness and Clarity’s refusal to break _La Recontre des Vertueux_ rules, she estimated it would be at least another year before she heard from the redhead again.

And, as it always seemed to, life went on with hardly a ripple in the great big world they inhabited. When the Maid returned to Clarity’s apartment, arms laden with groceries, the small woman hardly glanced up from her laptop.

Pleased to see she hadn’t keeled over or starved herself to death in her absence, the Maid prattled on and on about some nonsense, knowing that despite Clarity listening to her every word, none of it would truly matter.

The Maid’s words died in her throat as she opened the fridge to see it stocked full of food for the week. She turned around, crossing her arms and awaiting an explanation. In all her months she hadn’t seen Clarity once even so much as boil water.

“I _can_ cook, you know,” Clarity said. A little too smugly for the Maid’s liking. “How else do you think I’ve stayed alive all these years? Go on, there’s more than enough for the both of us. Ooh, try the Pho. You’ll have to slice up the meat yourself, but it’s already seasoned.”

The Maid sniffed, but curiosity got the best of her, and she made herself a bowl. As she ate, delightedly slurping up the savory broth, she decided she’d have to disappear more often if this was the result.

“Clarity,” she said finally. “What’s the real reason you wanted to hire me? I know you don’t need a babysitter to make sure you don’t drop dead from starvation.”

Clarity shrugged. She stalled by beckoning to her cat. An animal the Maid swore was possessed by some demon. As if sensing her disapproval, the cat turned her nose up at the Maid, preening under Clarity’s affection.

“Company, I suppose,” Clarity said a little wistfully. “And because cats don’t answer back in human languages. Does it truly matter?” The Maid sighed heavily and threw up her hands in exasperation. But she started the dishes, and fed the damned cat all the same.

 

It was a crisp Autumn morning. With Thanksgiving – a ridiculous American holiday neither the Maid nor Clarity celebrated – just around the bend, the city had already lit itself up for Christmas. Another holiday the two women planned on letting pass by with hardly a blink.

The Maid didn’t know what possessed her to peak out her kitchen window at the bustling street below. But when she caught sight of a head of red curls, nearly indistinguishable from the other passersby, the Maid understood. Clicking her tongue, she went searching for her shoes and coat. No point in keeping Temperance waiting for too long. Otherwise the idiot just might lose her nerve and flee back across the pond.

“What took you so long?” The Maid asked, making Temperance jump. She looked incredibly nervous, and her eyes kept flitting around as though she didn’t know what to focus on. The Maid wondered if this perhaps was her first time ever in the Big Apple.

“I- I needed time to think,” Temperance said, clutching her suitcase tighter as a big burly man pushed past them. The Maid rolled her eyes and pulled the other woman inside before one of them ended up assaulting the rude man.

“You wait here,” the Maid said, stopping just outside Clarity’s apartment door. “She’ll kill me if she’s not decent. Not that she ever is…”

The Maid quietly entered the apartment and ventured into Clarity’s room without knocking. She stopped in the doorway, surprised to see her already dressed and ready so early in the morning. Clarity stood at her window, stroking that insufferable cat absently.

“I thought she’d wait until the Spring,” Clarity said, still staring out the window. “Or at least do several laps around the block before she worked up the nerve.”

“I should have known you’d sense her presence,” the Maid said, leaning against the doorframe. “Are you ready? I can bring her back to mine if you need some time.”

Clarity shook her head, letting the cat spill back onto the floor. They’d waited long enough. Years. Decades even.

“Thank you. For flying across the Atlantic for two old fools.” Clarity said, slipping past the Maid on her way through the door. The Maid looked at her in surprise. All these months and Clarity hadn’t let on that she knew even once. “Please. Like I don’t personally balance my checkbook for fun.” The Maid chuckled and waited in the bedroom as Clarity took a deep breath, and very deliberately opened the door.

“Hi,” Temperance said nervously. “I- may I come in?”

“I think you’d better,” Clarity said tonelessly, stepping aside. Temperance winced, cautiously edging her way into the apartment. She stood awkwardly just inside the doorway, uncertainty written all over her face. Clarity folded her arms and didn’t alleviate the taller woman’s nerves in the slightest.

The Maid rolled her eyes. Trust Clarity to spend years pining after a woman only to act flippant rather than flinging her small body into Temperance’s arms so they could get on with it already.

The two women stared at each other for almost three minutes without saying a single word. Not out loud at least. Not in any spoken language.

“You didn’t come all this way to stare at my face,” Clarity said, and her tone softened ever so slightly. Enough to coax a small and hesitant smile out of Temperance.

“It would have been worth it if I did,” Temperance said. A step towards the carefree teasing they’d once had together. “I- I don’t- I fell in love with you twice, Clarity. Once as a member of _La Recontre des Vertueux_. And once as the author of a pile of books. And they were both you, but- but not. I suppose I came here to- to ask you…to ask if I might take you on a date. To see how easily I’ll fall in love with you again.”

“Awfully big risk to take,” Clarity said, unable to take her eyes off of a woman she’d not seen in years. “I suppose it would be rather rude of me to turn you away. There’s a lovely little Vietnamese place just down the block. If- if that’s okay with you.”

Unable to stand it any longer, the Maid flung her hands in the air and stormed past with a warning that by the time she got back they’d better have their shit together. She didn’t even know for sure if they’d heard her, given how intensely the two women were staring into each other’s eyes.

And just as she’d suspected, when the Maid came back hours later, she found the two old fools curled up on the couch with that damnable cat purring between them. That day and every day for years to come.

 

 


End file.
